


Sister

by Elri (angelrider13)



Series: Resist Order 66 [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Doom feels like a failure, Gen, Order 66, Order 66 doesn't go exactly the way it's supposed to, Read at Your Own Risk, Tiplee is ready to stab a bitch in the face, Tissue Warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 10:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5536496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelrider13/pseuds/Elri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doom has already failed once. He will not fail again.</p><p>Tiplee already lost her sister to this war. She will not lose more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Doom

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Сестра](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13501374) by [Kalgary_Nurse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalgary_Nurse/pseuds/Kalgary_Nurse)



> Christmas update! Sorry guys, meant for this to go up earlier but then holiday stuff happened.
> 
> Fair Warning: Neither of these two are going to be coming out of this unscathed.
> 
> For those unfamiliar with Tiplee and Commander Doom, they appear in TCW episode 1 of season six titled "The Unknown."

Doom is alone with his General when it happens.

It’s a simple mission. They’re scouting ahead, though the Separatist presence on this planet isn’t supposed to be that large, it’s better to be safe than sorry. Especially with how things have been going for them lately.

The loss of General Tiplar had hit all of them hard, but none more so than General Tiplee.

Doom still remembers the way he and General Tiplar had moved in tandem that day, working together with flawless precision that had come from years in each others company. He remembers staying with her, guarding her back. He remembers the shock that filled him when he saw her go down, the way his stomach dropped when General Tiplee had cried out for her twin.

He remembers the way shock turned to horror when he saw his brother with the smoking blaster in his hand standing over her corpse.

He was supposed to protect his Generals and he’d failed.

But he had never thought he would ever have to protect them from a brother.

And then, only three months later, he’d almost failed again. The mission to the Mandalorian supply outpost. He hadn’t been there, but he’d read the report.

His General had almost died.

Again.

Run through with a lightsaber. He is forever grateful to General Kenobi. He had kept General Tiplee alive long enough to be thrown into a becta tank. She had lived, but Doom still remembers the chill that had crawled up his spine and the way his stomach sank into his boots.

General Tiplee had been grounded after that mission.

This is her first since return to active duty and Doom intends to protect her with everything he is.

He will not fail again.

He can’t.

_Execute Order 66._

And then he finds out he might not have a choice.

Doom feels like he’s somewhere else. Somewhere far away and he’s watching everything unfold from a distance – as if it were a scene in one of those plays his General likes so much.

He doesn’t understand what’s happening.

He doesn’t understand why he’s drawing his blaster.

He doesn’t understand why he’s suddenly stalking his General like she’s prey.

_Good soldiers follow orders._

Doom feels like he's been dunked in ice.

His breath halts in his chest and his heart is suddenly in his throat. Cold sweeps through his veins and he feels numb.

Good soldiers follow orders.

He knows those words.

He’s heard them before.

Right before his brother killed one of his Generals.

Is this what happened? All those months ago?

Did this thing invade Tup’s mind and carve him out and take his place?

Is this why his General is dead?

Doom screams.

_Good soldiers follow orders._

The same words that his brother said as he pointed his blaster at General Tiplar’s head. The same words he said right before he pulled the trigger.

They’re echoing inside Doom’s head.

They’re echoing inside his head and he’s pointing his blaster at his General’s back.

The only General he has left.

The one he swore he would protect.

The one he _promised_.

Doom’s screaming, raging, but General Tiplee doesn’t notice. She keeps moving, leaving him her back because he’s always guarded it. Because even though he failed her sister, she still trusts him with it.

And he’s about to shoot her.

_GOOD SOLDIERS FOLLOW ORDERS._

Is this what Tup felt like?

Trapped with no way out, screaming inside his head?

Is this what it’s like for all of them?

Order 66 is boiling inside him, pounding away at his mind, demanding the death of the Jedi. Of all the Jedi. Of his General. He hears the thing inside his head talk about contingencies, about plans he never knew existed until this moment.

Someone has taken his body and turned into a weapon, ready and waiting.

Someone has done this with all of his brothers.

And Doom can feel them pulling the trigger.

_GOOD SOLDIERS FOLLOW ORDERS._

He’s not in control of his body anymore. His arms move by themselves, blaster already in his hands, to aim at his General’s back. He tries to pull back, to move his arms, to drop his blaster, to do _something_ , but nothing happens.

It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t want to shoot his General.

It doesn’t matter that he’d already failed once and swore that he would never fail again.

It doesn’t matter that he promised his dead General that he would do everything in his power to keep her sister alive.

It doesn’t matter that Doom would bleed for General Tiplee.

That he would live for her, die for her, kill for her.

It doesn’t matter that they both still grieve for the same women every second of every day.

It doesn’t matter that Doom knows how much this war is costing his General, how much he wishes he could spare her that pain.

It doesn’t matter that he loves her.

_GOOD SOLDIERS FOLLOW ORDERS._

It just doesn’t matter.

Doom tries anything, _anything_ , to give his General some kind of warning. To allow her to defend herself, to disarm him first, to _kill_ him first.

Her back is still facing him.

He pulls the trigger.

_GOOD SOLDIERS FOLLOW ORDERS._

Doom is howling as the shot connects.

Left shoulder blade – inches away from her spine.

His General stumbles forward as she takes the hit before she whirls, her blue lightsaber snapping to life with a familiar hiss, and then she freezes. Her blue eyes go wide and Doom can see the emotions play across her face. Confusion, betrayal, _anger_. Doom wants to reassure his General, to tell her that he would never betray her, but that’s not entirely true anymore, is it? Because he might be protesting, but his body is getting ready to take another shot.

General Tiplee lunges at him, her saber slicing through his blaster with ease.

Doom’s relief quickly melts into frustration as his body slams into hers, sending them both tumbling down the incline. He’s only peripherally aware of the rocks that slam into his armor, entirely focused on giving his General any opening he can.

_GOOD SOLDIERS FOLLOW ORDERS._

They hit the ground hard and Doom feels the breath leave his General’s lungs.

Her lightsaber has fallen just out of reach and he prays that she will think to reach for it rather than grapple with him. That she will use it to end him instead of prolonging this horror any longer and risk giving him an opening.

She never gets the chance.

His hands close around her throat and he can _feel_ them squeeze.

General Tiplee gasps beneath him, clawing at his hands, his wrists, his arms, trying to rip them off her.

Doom has never before taken into consideration how much smaller than him his General is. She is thinner than him, her throat could easily fit into one of his hands and he’s using both of them to force the air from her body. She’s trapped beneath his bulk in a way that makes revulsion claw at his stomach and fear grip his heart.

_GOOD SOLDIERS FOLLOW ORDERS._

His General’s movements are slowing.

Her eyes are glassy and unfocused.

He’s just noticed the gash across her right temple, dark blue blood painting her crimson skin. It must have happened in the fall. He hadn’t noticed. Hadn’t noticed it at all. Head wounds always bleed a lot. Her blood is dripping down her face, flowing through the tendrils on her head, a pool steadily growing beneath them. His gloves feel sticky and that’s when Doom realizes that her blood has seeped into the fabric.

He has his General’s blood on his hands.

Literally.

For a moment every things stills.

_GOOD SOLDIERS FOLLOW ORDERS._

Then he _rages_.

Doom claws his ways back into his body, uncaring of the pain in his head, the screaming in his ears, the voice repeating those awful words over and over and over again.

His arms are stiff and ridged with the force he’s exerting on them and he _wills_ his fingers to move. Off his General, away from his General, his hands will never again _touch_ his General. Not after this. Not after this betrayal, after this abomination.

His General sputters a cough beneath him before a hand is shoved against his chest and then he’s flying back.

_GOOD SOLDIERS FOL –_

His back slams into the rock face.

Hard.

He feels something snaps and then everything becomes muted.

The voice in his head quiets, shouting becomes a whisper. He can’t move and in any other circumstances he might have been fighting off panic but right now all he feels is relief. If he can’t move, then he can’t hurt his General. If he can’t move, then he can’t kill his General.

He hears his General hacking, air rushing back into her lungs, and he has to close his eyes to stop himself from weeping.

Force, this is such a mess.

A familiar snapping hiss and heat against his cheek has him opening his eyes again. His General is standing over him, eyes hard and colder than he’s ever seen. Her face is covered in blood, the wound on her head still weeping, her tunics stained. Her left arm is cradled close to her body and Doom remembers dimly that his first shot had connected.

“Commander,” General Tiplee says, voice rough, in her cool collected way that tells Doom exactly what level of angry she’s at, “What the hell was that?”

The last time his General was this angry, she was facing down her sister’s killer.

So he gives her the only answer he can.

“Good soldiers follow orders, sir.”

She recoils sharply, her crimson skin paling into a dusky pink. She recognizes the words, he knows. Heard them the same place he did, knows exactly what happened the last time those words left a clone’s lips.

Her lightsaber flicks off after a long moment of them just staring at each other and she slowly goes to her knees beside him.

“Doom,” she says softly, and he hates the tremor he hears there, “What’s going on?”

He feels a token protest from the thing in his head, but it’s easier to brush off now. Maybe it knows that he can’t carry out the order now – even if he had wanted to. Good soldiers have to be able to move after all.

“Order 66,” he answers her, voice just as soft, “Apparently, us clones come preprogrammed with contingency plans,” he says with a bitter smile.

He sees the realization in her eyes, the puzzle pieces falling into place. Mysteries on Ringo Vinda that had never been solved, the words of a brother that had never been explained.

“The death of the Jedi,” she whispers, looking at him in horror before gasping sharply, eyes going distant. Silvery tears start running down her cheeks and Doom is breaking. He’s only seen his General this way once and he’d swore to protect her from feeling this kind of pain ever again.

He’s failed.

Not only that, but he’s the source of her pain.

He’s not sure what’s worse.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Tiplee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This verse is going to kill me. Feels everywhere. Bring tissues. 
> 
> These guys are in all kinds of pain.

It happens so fast. Too fast.

Tiplee has no time to comprehend what’s happening.

It started so simply. An easy mission, short and simple, to get her used to field work again. But then the sharp pain in her back came and she turned, ready to face the enemy. Only to face her Commander, blaster raised. By the time she’s reacted, Doom is already moving.

Their bodies are tangled together as they go tumbling to the ground. Rock and armor slam into her and she knows that she will be a bruised mess when she gets out of this.

If she gets out of this.

Doom has turned on her.

It’s like something out of her nightmares.

The doubts that she’s had since Ringo Vinda surface and questions that were never answered circle in her mind over and over again.

There’s a sharp pain in her head and aches up and down her body. Her back slams into the hard ground and the air flees her lungs.

And then Doom’s hands are around her throat.

It’s instinct to fight back. She claws at his arms, bucks her hips underneath him to try and throw him off. But he’s bigger than her; a warrior that’s all heavy armor and hard muscle. He doesn’t even budge.

She pushes and pulls and struggles but she can’t _breathe_ and her world is closing in around her. And Doom. Doom is towering over her, choking her. Tiplee can’t see his face. All she sees is the cold, indifferent mask of the helmet he wears. She can’t tell what he’s thinking. All she feels is…quiet. There is nothing. Where Doom is there is nothing but a void. And it terrifies her.

Suddenly, the pressure on her throat lessens and she can almost breathe again.

It’s enough.

She shoves a hand against her commander’s chest and pushes him back as hard as she can. She’s dimly aware of him colliding with the rock face, of the sickening crack that echoes when he does. But she’s too busy sucking as much air into her lungs as she can to really register anything else.

Her throat feels swollen and scarped raw. Her body shudders with the force of her hacking. Moving hurts and she feels the phantom pain of a lightsaber ripping through her body as her body heaves. This is her first mission since the disaster that was the Mandalorian supply outpost. She had expected quiet recon.

Instead, it’s Ringo Vinda all over again.

She grabs her lightsaber and forces herself to her feet. Her head is pounding and the world spins as stands but she manages it. Her vision is hazy but she can see enough to tell that Doom has not moved from where he’s landed.

The sight of him sends a rage through her that she hasn’t felt in months.

Not since she held her sister’s cooling body in her arms.

Since she faced her sister’s killer.

How dare he.

 _How dare he_.

She _trusted_ him.

Trusted him even though part of her kept screaming at her to stay as far away from the clones as possible. She’d put it up to paranoia. They were all feeling the effects of the war, of the constant fighting. It was draining, exhausting. Tiplee feels worn down.

She had thought that she was over thinking things, was letting her fear get the better of her.

Her lightsaber, snaps to life in her hand as she holds it out against his cheek. The movement pulls at her back, but she ignores it because everything hurts and she can’t let that stop her. Not right now.

Doom doesn’t move away even though Tiplee knows that he can feel the heat of her blade through his helmet.

“Commander,” she says, ignoring the rawness of her throat, not bothering to hide her fury, “What the hell was that?”

Doom’s head shifts ever so slightly and she can feel his eyes on her. “Good soldiers follow orders, sir.”

The words are said softly, quietly. But Tiplee reels back as if she’s just been struck by Force lightning. Those words echo in the sudden silence around them.

Those words.

Those awful, horrible words.

Words she’s heard repeated over and over again in her dreams as her sister breathes her last.

Words she’s heard as she looks into cold eyes that lack recognition of any kind, as familiar men lunge for her demanding her death.

Her saber flicks of and she sinks to her knees by her Commander. “Doom,” she says, unable to completely smother the terror in her voice, “What’s going on?”

“Order 66,” he answers her, voice just as soft, “Apparently, us clones come preprogrammed with contingency plans.”

His voice is bitter and snide and angry and Tiplee can feel the self-deprecation radiating off the man in waves.

Preprogrammed, he’d said.

Order 66, he’d said.

Tiplee feels numb.

This was a _plan_. A long standing plan. One that has been in place since the creation of the clone army.

This is what happened on Ringo Vinda. This why they never got an explanation for what happened. The Jedi could never know if this plan was to work.

 _Tiplar_ , her mind screams.

 _Sister_ , her heart wails.

“The death of the Jedi,” she says through nerveless lips.

It hits her like a tidal wave – sudden and all at once.

Death.

Death everywhere, all at once, in a single moment. It echoes across the galaxy, stealing the breath from her lungs all over again.

Her heart is in her throat.

Jedi.

The Force is screaming around her, thousands upon thousands of lights gone leaving nothing but an empty void in their place.

“General.”

She blinks, uncomprehending.

“General,” Doom calls again.

She stares at him in horrified silence.

“Sir,” he says and she can feel the pain in his voice, “You need to leave. This thing – it’s inside all of us. We won’t hesitate to cut you down. You have to cut us down first. You have to kill us before we kill you.”

Tiplee has no words to explain the sudden anger singing in her blood.

She shoots up to her feet, knees locking when the world tips dangerously.

“Absolutely not,” she hisses.

“Sir –”

Doom sounds startled and maybe a little bit panicked. Tiplee doesn’t care.

“We’re getting answers, Commander,” she announces, cutting off whatever protest he might make.

Doom sighs. He sounds tired and exhausted and so, so much older than his twelve years should allow. “Sir, you can’t take me with you. For one thing, I can’t move. At all. For another, this voice in my head still really wants to kill you.”

Tiplee frowns, remembering the distant crack she’d heard, taking in her Commander’s sprawled form against the rocks. The way he hasn’t moved in the slightest. She hooks her lightsaber to her belt and then carefully, oh so carefully, reaches out with the Force.

She wraps it around Doom, uses it to keep him immobile as she lifts him off the ground. He makes a startled sound.

“I don’t care,” she says shortly.

“But General –”

“Tiplar wouldn’t want me to leave you behind.”

Doom falls silent at that and Tiplee knows she’s won.

Tiplar would never forgive her if she left Doom here alone and unable to move. Left him here in this strange, convoluted hell that seems to be growing around them.

If her sister were here, she would call them both idiots, throw each of them over her shoulders, carry them out of here, and then figure out what the hell is going on.

Tiplar is gone.

She can’t solve this mystery.

So Tiplee will just have to do it for her.

It feels right.

And Doom is going to stay with her. He has always been more Tiplar’s than hers. Always looking to her first, always diving head first into trouble with her, always standing at her back. She sees so much of her twin in him that it aches.

And she’ll be damned if she lets him die.

He’s all she has left.

And she’s going to keep him safe or die trying, Order 66 or no.

She drags him back to their shuttle – a small freighter made for at most seven people. It isn’t much, but it’s enough for now. Doom is silent as she lays him out on a table, flicking on the medical droid with a wave of her hand. She carefully takes off his helmet and he stares at her. She meets his eyes unflinchingly.

She will not bend.

Not on this.

Never on this.

Doom seems to see this on her face because his lips twitch up ever so slightly into a smile. His eyes are sad and angry and there is so, so much pain in his face that Tiplee half expects him to break down right there.

“Alright,” he says softly.

She backs off, letting the droid do its work, and heads toward the cockpit. Then sooner they get out of here, the better. She has to take the long way, circling the planet to avoid the fleet. She’s moving on autopilot.

When her mind catches up with her body, she falls.

She can’t hold herself up anymore.

Her body is trembling uncontrollably, her head is spinning and she can’t see straight at all. She feels like she’s floating.

Dimly, she realizes that she’s sticky.

Shaking fingers touch her cheek and come away blue.

Oh.

She bleeding.

A lot.

She’s also pretty sure that she’s crying.

She hurts.

Doom is broken.

Jedi are dying.

The Force is screaming at her.

Tiplar is gone.

Safe.

They need to be kept safe.

Doom is still alive. Broken but alive. She has to protect him, has to keep him safe. For her sister. For herself.

She has to keep him alive.

She pulls herself up to the controls. A safe place. They need a safe place. Away from the war and the fighting and the deathdeathdying that follows them everywhere they go these days. She enters the coordinates, forces her fingers steady as she activates the hyperdrive.

Then she falls back as the world goes gray around her.

A safe place.

The Jedi are dying.

The Force is screaming.

Her sister is gone.

Her Commander is broken.

But alive.

 _Please. Please let me save him_.

She hurts. She doesn’t have the energy to move anymore. She can’t see. She reaches for the Force. It cradles her, soothing, mourning. She feels a hand on her brow.

_Rest, sister._

She sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently in canon, Tiplee died before Order 66 came down.
> 
> It was on the mission to the Mandalorian outpost that I referenced in this fic. She and Obi-Wan were tracking Maul, who had allied with Count Dooku. When the pair confronted him at the outpost, Dooku killed Tiplee. I did not know this until after I started writing this arc. I decided that since it was AU anyway and I was already half done, who cares.

**Author's Note:**

> Story [tag](http://angelrider13.tumblr.com/search/resist+order+66) on tumblr. 
> 
> Happy Holidays guys!


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